Mental
by controlled climb
Summary: She really did hate him being at St. Mungo's – especially alone. In her opinion, the very building itself was enough to send anyone over the edge.


Katie sat by his bed, her hands folded in her lap. It killed her to see her old Quidditch captain like this – she half expected him to jump up, ruffle her hair in that irritating, condescending way and then order her to go for a fly with him later on.

But no. Although Oliver had stayed strong during the battle, he'd fallen to pieces almost straight after its finish. When he'd first fell, she'd thought for one terrifying moment that he'd died. She should've known better, really – Oliver wasn't the sort to be hit down by just any old spell.

As he lay in front of her though, Katie suddenly found it hard to believe that this broken man was the same boy that had yelled at her on the pitch for daydreaming time and time again. No, the man in front of her seemed too weak – too pathetic – to be the Oliver she knew.

"Still here, Katie?"

She jumped at his voice, smiling at first to hear him, but then frowning as she realised what it was, exactly, it had said to her.

"Always, Oliver." The words rung true, but even that didn't stop her voice from shaking. She continued anyway, well aware of the fact that he didn't, and probably wasn't going to, believe her. "You're mental if you reckon I'm leaving you in this hole alone."

In a way, she was joking. But she really did hate him being at St. Mungo's – especially alone. In her opinion, the very building itself was enough to send anyone over the edge.

"Everyone thinks I'm mental anyway," he muttered.

Katie, in turn, rolled her eyes. "I don't think you're mental."

She didn't deny it though – everyone _did_ think he'd gone around the bend, although most didn't dare voice their opinion. Now, over a year after the war, Oliver was still in the hospital. Even Lavender Brown, who'd kicked up such a fuss about her apparent post-traumatic symptoms, had left by now.

"Oliver," Katie started, "no one went through what you did. We all…we all had different experiences."

"And Harry?" he snapped. "Harry, the kid that died, what's he like now, huh? He's got more right to be here than I do and yet, I'm the one here."

"Harry wanted to get away. Hell, Oliver, Harry _had_ to get away."

The legend had gone into hiding just as quickly as Oliver had run to the hospital. Most people, other than the likes of Rita Skeeter, had understood – some had even managed to leave him alone for a bit. Unfortunately, even the ones that left Harry to be weren't sympathetic towards Oliver. In their eyes, he was just a weak boy. He was more than that, but only Katie seemed to know it.

"When are you leaving, Ollie?" Katie asked. It wasn't so much to start conversation, but more because she was genuinely curious. After sitting in the same hard, cold seat for a year, she was beginning to wonder if she'd ever leave those white walls behind. "You want to leave, don't you? I thought you hated this place."

He rolled on his side, turning away from her. "I do."

"Then why do you stay?" His answer had only served to infuriate her further and her patience was running out. Most would have called Katie a patient person, but she'd done her waiting. And although she never would have admitted it, St. Mungo's was beginning to take its toll on her. "It's not _fair_, Oliver. You're not the only one that's hurt-"

"You think I don't know that?"

She bit her lip. The conversation had been shaky to start with, but she couldn't help but feel that it had suddenly been taken to a whole new level.

"You think I don't know that you hate it here?" Oliver continued. "You think I don't know that you've come here everyday without fail? You think I don't know that Alicia dropped by last week and literally _dragged_ you out of my room?"

"If you did know, if you _really_ knew, you'd be out of here."

She almost felt bad for speaking so harshly – almost. But after so many days and nights, she'd finally snapped.

"You can leave now, Katie."

"But –"

"And don't come back."

She left without word...not because she wanted to, but because the look on Oliver's face was not only terrifying, but also rather pathetic. And never had Oliver been a pitiful person, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first one to pity him.

Really, she'd left for his sake. She didn't return for hers.


End file.
